


My Hand in Yours

by ClinicalChaos



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Cardverse, Healing, M/M, Magic, Sex Magic, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:18:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClinicalChaos/pseuds/ClinicalChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war in Terra Phantasia is finally over, and the Kingdom of Spades stands the victor. However, this does not take away the fact that King Alfred would be dead if not for his Queen's magic. Queen Arthur cannot stand to see the weariness that still plagues his husband, and so hatches a plan to help both them upon the return home. Now, just to convince Alfred to go along with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Hand in Yours

Arthur made a pleased noise low in his throat as he stepped inside the threshold of the rooms he shared with his husband. Really, he and his King had been away for far too long. Across the way, dewy morning light poured into the antechamber from the wall-wide windows, softening the deep cobalts and heavy dark furniture. Flower arrangements of royal blue roses sat on every table, sweet and fresh. Usually, Arthur would light the many candles scattered around the room with a glance, but they'd been gone so long that the natural scent of the sea breeze was all he desired.

Well, not all Arthur desired, but the familiarity of home was a strong start.

Turning to the train of servants behind him, Arthur stepped aside and let them in with a wave of his hand. Like a hive of blue-uniformed bees, they buzzed into the Royal Apartments and set to work. Locked and sealed trunks of military papers and plans went to Arthur's private office, while luggage with clothes and personal affects went to the dressing and washing rooms. Deeper in the bowels of the castle, armour and weapons were returned to the armoury, horses were tended to, and foreign plunder was sorted away. Such menial tasks were handled efficiently, the servants leery of upsetting their Queen with the King indisposed.

Arthur's hand went to his throat, settling delicately on the necklace that sat there. A clock in the shape of a spade, his first courting gift from his King. Set with diamonds and sapphires, Alfred had wound the cogs himself, taking months to learn how to do such fickle work properly. Arthur only removed it to sleep, and never in battle. He felt at peace with the clock there, always close at hand. There had been precious little peace for him as the war dragged on. Even less, after the Queen of Hearts had nearly ended his King.

Arthur closed his eyes, allowing the emotions he'd buried for the duration of the war to rise up. Alfred, of course, had insisted on riding point with the army, too loyal to do anything but. Arthur had accepted the placement long ago, knowing logically that Alfred's vibrancy and charisma played particularly well on the battlefield, let alone his skill. Arthur had remained with the navy, directing them as he had his crew during his piracy days. The Spadian navy was well-feared for her ability to come and go like a riptide; Arthur had proved her bite even worse than the bark. The air command, Alfred and Arthur's brain child, had finally sealed the deal in Spades' favor. However, the great flying machines had only become fully-functional after four years of war had already passed.

The Queen of Hearts had run Alfred through during one of the last confrontations. Had it not been for Mathew, Alfred's twin and Ace of Spades, the army might have fallen apart and the war lost without the King to lead. However, Mathew had turned Alfred's fall into a gathering point. Enraged, the army had marched forward in a vicious surge under their Ace, allowing for the medics to rush the King away. The war was won in hours. Yet, Arthur had not been there to see the defining moment. He'd been rushed from his hastily docked ship to the medical tents. There, he'd worked so much magic on his husband's prone body that magical exhaustion had nearly killed him.

Shaking his head to banish the memories, Arthur turned and shooed away the last of his staff. Anything that hadn't been managed could be done the next day. Arthur had returned home with a plan, and he would not be distracted by dawdling servants or lingering fears. Alfred was fine, though completely and continually exhausted from being dragged back from death. Arthur, whose magic had recuperated over the weeks of travel to Spades, wanted that fixed.

Disappearing into the bathroom, Arthur called up just that magic. All people of Terra Phantasia had magic. However, most didn't care to train the ability, just as most didn't bother to learn more than one language. Arthur had been the youngest of a bastard line from Clubs. He'd been willing to do anything to prove he was braver, smarter, or more resourceful that his larger, better-liked siblings. Magic had called to him, and soon his affinity with water and electricity had gained him notice with the pirates. He was captaining his own ship by nineteen. When his card showed on his twenty-first birthday, the progression from pirate lord to Queen of Spades had seemed almost natural.

Marrying Alfred had been less so.

Loud, brash, optimistic, and informal, Alfred was everything Arthur was not. He'd grown up rurally, tinkering with farm equipment in his spare time. He'd never had the money for college, but he was a fearsome learner. When Alfred's card had shown him the King of Spades, his family had shepherded him to the castle. Alfred had appeared in shock, Mathew a quiet presence beside him. That Mathew was the Ace had surprised no one who knew him. In the first few months of lessons and planning, Mathew had seemed to be the only person able to draw an emotion out of the overwhelmed King. Arthur, who'd been both jealous and annoyed, had continued to rule as though alone, leaving the King and the Ace for the Jack, Yao, to deal with.

However, as it turned out, Alfred was not a man who took well to being ignored. Once he'd found his feet, Alfred had dogged Arthur's heels. Not the least bit cordial, he'd irritated Arthur in ways Arthur had never imagined. Where even Yao eventually quailed under Arthur's rage, Alfred refused. Sometimes, Alfred seemed to annoy him just to get a rise out of Arthur.

In the privacy of his own mind, Arthur would admit he'd enjoyed the challenge. It was like a game, in a way. A clever battle of words and actions. Poor Yao had aged years in days as his royal pair continued to bicker, but Arthur could honestly say that he'd fallen in love while trading barbs. Something about Alfred's stubbornness, his cleverness, his refusal to bend, had appealed to Arthur. He'd been forced into respecting his young King, a matter of opinion he held for few. From there they'd found common ground, such as their love of innovation and stories. One of Arthur's favourite memories was the night he'd introduced Alfred to fireworks. They were simple magical illusions, large and sparkly and fluid in the sky. They'd kissed for the first time under one of Arthur's creation, their faces painted in the blue light of a sparkling Spadian rose cast high in the sky as the bud bloomed.

Now, Arthur used his magic to set the bathtub to filling while he gathered up some candles. Bergamot and rose would encourage relaxation, while cinnamon was Alfred's favourite. Arthur may have taken comfort from the sea salt breeze, but he was a pirate at heart. Alfred had just spent three weeks on a ship. He'd probably be happy never to smell the ocean again, Arthur’s poor darling.

Wine and glasses were set down next, followed by a tray of food brought up by the servants. Message oils joined them at the lip of the tub. Ridiculously huge, Arthur could actually  _swim_ from one side to the other. With a wave of his hand, the candles lit and the water began to bubble appealingly. Arthur added a selection of healing herbs and stood back to admire his work.

"Arthur?" A voice called from the antechamber. "Are you in here?"

Arthur smiled. Alfred's voice was tired, but Arthur still felt a little thrill of relief just hearing him speak. Walking into the antechamber, Arthur didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his husband.

"How are you, darling?" Alfred looked pale, still, Arthur thought. Dark circles swooped under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken. His long, pleated jacket hung in places. Even his hug felt exhausted. Arthur tsked mentally, feeling his magic stir under his skin. He would take care of his King.

"I'm alright, babe. Settling everything just took a bit out of me," Alfred mumbled. Arthur hushed him, running his gloved fingers through Alfred's short hair. Alfred lent into his touch, humming contently.

"I'm sure you are," Arthur soothed. "But you know I worry. Will you let me take care of you, my darling?"

Alfred always appreciated being asked. Arthur had learned early on that the easiest way to ensure a fight was to impose on Alfred's independence. Now, he merely  _maneuvered around_  Alfred's independence. Generally, everything turned out just fine that way.

Alfred tensed in Arthur's arms. “I don’t want you to strain yourself. I saw how you were, Arthur. I don't ever want to see that again. Not for anyone, not even me."

Arthur grimaced. Magical exhaustion was pleasant for no one. The sufferer was catatonic or comatose, depending on the severity. Often, their veins raised against the skin as though trying to force their way out. Arthur had seen many cases as a pirate; even fallen into the state often himself. However, saving Alfred had pushed him farther than he’d ever dared.

Brushing a thumb under Alfred’s wary eye, Arthur smiled. He would choose to do so again and more in a heartbeat. Anything for his King, his darling, his husband. Besides, magical exhaustion was a quick affliction. You either died in the moment or healed in days. Arthur was fine, but Alfred was not. That couldn’t be allowed to stand.

Now, just to get Alfred to see life’s troubles Arthur’s way.

Wrapping his arms around Alfred’s shoulders, Arthur pulled him into a sweet kiss. His King bowed accordingly, caging Arthur close to his body. Such was the only cage Arthur would ever abide. In fact, Arthur wound closer, pushing insistently at Alfred’s heavy jacket.

With a pouty moan, Alfred broke the kiss to shuck off his jacket. The thick satin crumpled at their feat, leaving Alfred in his fitted trousers and blousy shirt, tailored in by his brocade vest. Arthur had the buttons undone in a flash, hands quickly loosening Alfred’s smart black tie to reveal his tanned neck. The King moaned as Arthur ghosted his lips along his Adam’s apple, taking the opportunity to suckle the sensitive flesh. Alfred jerked against Arthur’s touch.

“No fair,” Alfred gasped. “You’re distracting me. Don’t want you hurt.”

Somehow, Alfred had it in his head that Arthur was someone to be protected. Perhaps because Arthur was the Queen, not the King, or because he was of smaller stature. Or perhaps because Alfred was really just a protective, possessive bastard when push came to shove. Arthur accepted that about Alfred, and mostly didn’t argue. However, that was only because Arthur knew he was much worse. 

Grinning, Arthur pushed off Alfred’s vest. Wrapping his hand around Alfred’s tie, he drew his King close. “I assure you, darling, you have nothing to fear.” He kissed along Alfred’s jaw, his free hand working through the shirt’s buttons. Alfred’s hand, gloved in soft dark leather, cupped his head, pulling at Arthur’s hair. Normally, Arthur would have reacted by pushing Alfred up against the nearest wall, the impertinent brat, but there was a tremble in his fingers that made Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. Pausing, he held his King’s eye.

“Please, Alfred,” Arthur persuaded. He brought Alfred’s other hand up to kiss his knuckles through the leather, never breaking eye contact. “Let me help you, my dearest.”

Alfred hesitated. He must have scared Alfred badly, Arthur thought. However, Alfred had done him much the same. Placing a gentle hand on the side of Alfred’s face, he arched up and brushed his lips against his King’s forehead. “Please.”

The tension drained from Alfred’s body. As though the string tethering him to this world had been cut, the King of Spades slipped away. Alfred F. Jones-Kirkland, still exhausted and pained after very nearly dying, was all who remained. This suited Arthur just fine. Satisfied, Arthur breathed a string of butterfly kisses across his love’s skin. Alfred moaned low in his throat, cerulean eyes fluttering shut.

“There’s my darling,” Arthur purred. Nimbly, he unstrung the tie from Alfred’s neck and let it drop to the floor. Taking an edge of Alfred’s shirt collar, Arthur led him to the bathroom.

Stripping off his own vest and neck bow, Arthur pulled Alfred into another kiss while he kicked off his shoes. His husband replied in kind, pawing at Arthur’s shirt. Arthur gently brushed his hand away.

“Let me see first, darling,” Arthur coaxed. Best to see how Alfred’s injury looked before Arthur lost himself completely to magic and arousal. Reluctantly, Alfred nodded.

Undoing the rest of the pearly shirt buttons, Arthur gently pushed the material away. He couldn’t stop a cringe when the wound was revealed. Though no longer bleeding, the magic-born flesh was delicate still. All of the day’s movement had flushed it a vivid red, even with the herb pasts and fresh magic Arthur subtly applied every morning. When Arthur ran his fingers softly over the angry wound, Alfred flinched.  

Arthur snapped his hand away as though he’d been burned. “I should have put the bandages back on,” he murmured.  

Alfred wound Arthur’s hand with his. “You did what you could. I didn’t want to wait around.” Alfred grinned brightly, “You know I’m a terrible patient.”

Swallowing, Arthur nodded. “You truly are. Now, let’s get you out of this so I can help.”

Shirts were quickly divested, gloves removed, hats and crowns tucked away, trousers and underthings shucked off. With careful hands, Arthur removed his pendant and placed it atop his pile, not missing Alfred’s pleased smile. Soon, Arthur had his arms around Alfred, steadying him as he stepped into the sunken tub. The medicinal scent of the various herbal extracts Arthur had added was overpowered by the candles, and the water steamed gently, kept warm by Arthur’s magic. Alfred appealed dazed as Arthur settled him.

“There now,” Arthur soothed, bringing cupped handfuls of water over Alfred’s collarbones. He knelt between Alfred’s legs, eyes focused on any twitch of discomfort Alfred might give. “That’s better now, love, isn’t it?”

Alfred made a soft noise, head tipping backwards. Arthur moved to his side, curling an arm around Alfred’s shoulders. Moaning, Alfred tucked his nose against Arthur’s neck.  _This is probably the first time he’s felt painless all day,_ Arthur thought. _I guess the exhaustion is catching up to him._

Murmuring sweet nothings into Alfred’s ear, Arthur pushed forth the magic he’d been gathering beneath his skin. Green light traveled along his veins, gathering in his eyes, lips, and hands. Just barely, Arthur trialed his hand up and down Alfred’s left bicep, up to where the injury began at the top his shoulder. Heart’s Queen had slashed Alfred from shoulder to hip. Part of Arthur would never forgive himself for not being there to take off the bastard’s head. At least he’d been there to heal the wound.

Pressing a kiss to the edge of the injury, Arthur watched as green sparks flowed onto Alfred’s skin. Where they touched, the redness receded, returning the golden tan Arthur adored. Satisfied, Arthur continued his ministrations, his hands traveling along Alfred’s sides. One he placed firmly at the wound’s end, on Alfred’s hip. This created a sort of closed circuit, as Alfred would say, and Arthur watched as more of his magic filtered into the gash. When the laceration was completely aglow, he let himself deviate. He pressed kisses along Alfred’s throat and jaw, to his temple and nape. He wound his legs with Alfred’s, let his hands travel freely. Alfred was putty against Arthur’s side, as melted as the candles’ wax. His blue eyes watched Arthur at half-mast, his awe peeking out between his lashes. Open and soft, he breathed easily through his mouth. Arthur smirked to himself – Alfred’s lips were so kiss-bitten they appeared as though Arthur had been plying Alfred with raspberries.

“Arthur,” Alfred whimpered. His voice was more whisper than not, but Arthur still hushed him with a kiss. Alfred made the effort of winding his closest hand in Arthur’s hair, allowing Arthur to use his palm as a headrest

“Yes, my darling?” Arthur queried. He curled his hand around Alfred’s wrist, pressing a kiss into Alfred’s palm. Alfred moaned.

With what seemed to be a gargantuan effort, Alfred pulled one of Arthur’s legs over his lap. His big hand found purchase on the small of Arthur’s back, his calloused fingers dipping lower. Arthur sucked a breath in, letting Alfred manhandle him into position.

“You’re sure?” Arthur asked lightly. Arthur had been using tantric magic to aid the healing process of late, but he’d daren’t move beyond heavy kissing. Before that, he’d just pressed his hands to the wound. However, if Alfred felt comfortable… Well, it  _had_ been a long time. Arthur had missed his husband in more ways than one.

Leaning up, Alfred nipped at Arthur’s ear. “I’m sure, babe. The thought of you is driving me insane."

Arthur smirked, “I can’t say I’m sad to hear that. Here, darling, move up a level and this will be easier.”

The tub was two-tiered; filled to the brim, it went to one’s neck. Wary of how Alfred might react, Arthur had filled it so that sitting on the second tier, that water barely rose over the hips. Damn clever of him, that had been.

Between the healing herbs stewed into the water and the fresh contact with Arthur’s magic, Alfred moved with almost as much power as he had pre-injury. Though a little dazed, he was grinning, his cock already hard. Arthur arched an eyebrow.

“Someone’s eager.”

Without warning, Alfred pulled him in for a kiss. His hands tugged at Arthur’s hips, drawing Arthur closer, and then up. Arthur was barely conscious of how he knelt on either side of his husband’s hips, head too fuzzy with want. When Alfred broke the kiss, Arthur couldn’t hold back a miserable little whine.

Alfred chuckled gently. His eyes were brighter than they had been in months. “I guess I was just missing you, babe.” Alfred looked down, a smirk forming on his lips. “Besides, I wouldn’t say I was the only eager one.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, curling closer to his husband as much to forget the cold chill on his back as for the contact. Then, Alfred’s clever, calloused fingers found their way around Arthur’s cock. Arthur gasped, bucking up into the delicious friction. Alfred stroked him slowly, though,  _tortuously;_  the damn  _tease_. 

“Oil’s beside you,” Arthur bit out. He let his forehead fall against Alfred’s chest with a moan.

“No worries, baby, I have you,” Alfred crooned. He ran his knuckles along the knobs of Arthur’s spine, his occupied hand gentling off as Arthur grew more desperate. He stopped completely when Arthur thrust up, desperate for  _more_.

Alfred chuckled deeply, the vibrations thrumming through his chest. “Now, now, beautiful. Have a little faith, yeah?” Arthur didn’t bother to hide his curse. Had Alfred been completely healed, Arthur might have smacked him.

However, Alfred obviously didn’t have the strength to draw their games out. Mouth lathing at Arthur’s throat, he fumbled with the oil bottle and eventually managed to slick up his hand. Before long, he was meticulously working Arthur open.

“Alfred, please,” Arthur whined. “I was a damn pirate, I can handle a little roughness.”

Alfred planted kisses along Alfred’s neck, bending to suckle Arthur’s nipple. His fingers bit into Arthur’s hips. Arthur had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. “Doesn’t mean you should have to, sugar.”  

Moaning, Arthur threw his arms around Alfred’s neck. “Whatever damn-well pleases you, I suppose.”

Alfred hummed. He lifted Arthur up, positioning him over his cock. Ever so slowly, he settled Arthur down again. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

Giving up, Arthur bit into Alfred’s neck, relishing in his husband’s hiss. As if in apology, he lapped at the tiny wound, creating a lovely red mark. Alfred grunted, his pulse like a wild thing under Arthur’s lips. “Can I move?”

“I have half a mind to make you wait, you frustrating creature,” Arthur murmured fondly.

Alfred groaned. “Arthur –“

Arthur cut him off with a peck to the lips. “But, because I am the best damn thing that ever happened to you, you may proceed.”

Alfred grinned. He twined Arthur’s fingers with his, kissing every knuckle. “As my Queen doth command.”

Water lapped against their skin as Alfred set his pace. Not slow, but not fast enough to sooth the itch boiling hot and fervid in Arthur’s gut. Taking it upon himself, Arthur braced his free hand against Alfred’s chest and gave a rolling snap of his hips, grinning cockily at Alfred’s choked gasp.

“I think you’ve been working too hard, my King,” Arthur whispered. “How about you let me finish this up?”

Eyes blown wide, Alfred struggled to nod. Feeling devilish, Arthur took up a rolling, teasing rhythm that had Alfred babbling nonsense in minutes. His own cock was heavy and dripping, the water a frothy delight around them. Arthur felt super-charged, his magic racing under his skin like lightening.  

“Arthur, baby, I’m close,” Alfred panted. He looked absolutely wrecked. Arthur couldn’t resist kissing him, so he didn’t.

“Then come for me, my darling,” Arthur commanded. Alfred, strung out and desperate, gave one high keening wail before meeting release. After a few more thrusts, Arthur joined him.

Looping an arm around Arthur, Alfred pulled him close. “That was so good, baby. I love you.”

Arthur hummed, more content than he could ever remember being. “And I, you, my most darling of treasures.”


End file.
